


Tempest

by FlamingInk



Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Fluff and Smut, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 08:49:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19169854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlamingInk/pseuds/FlamingInk
Summary: It wasn't a huge compromise to make - staying over at Shibden rather than Anne stay over at the Lightcliffe estate, what with Anne's Aunt feeling under the weather and Anne's sister having travelled away. There would have been no way, following normal etiquette, that Anne would have allowed herself to stay at another's residence whilst her Aunt was unwell and without younger company. Ann did understand all of this - really, she had only wanted Anne to stay for dinner and all night because she had so dearly missed Anne's company.





	Tempest

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic, though the two women have shared their first kiss, they are yet to be intimate. However, Anne is aware of the events pertaining to Reverend Ainsworth. Therefore the timeline does not follow the TV series completely. But references to the above are limited anyhow.
> 
> It also turns out that I live just down the road from Shibden Hall. So you bet I went and visited.
> 
> It turns out that they filmed scenes in Anne's bedroom on a set in Leeds, as the actual room wasn't big enough for a TV crew. And interstingly, there was a door between Anne's bedroom and one of the guest bedrooms. Now that got my muse running.
> 
> Enjoy!

A loud crack echoed across the lusciously green Lister estate, momentarily casting a white light above the dismally grey thunder clouds and sending a sharp flash across the otherwise coal-black guest bedroom. The panelling, for just a moment, reflected ominous dark shadows and finger-like silhouettes danced dangerously across the rug laying on the wooden floor. The sound of the rain, cascading down against the numerous panes of, now frosted, glass - a visual demonstration of the temperature difference between the inside of the Lister guest room and the torrential downpour outside - was momentarily dulled as a roll of thunder (a deep, obtrusive rumble) released from the Heavens.

Ann Walker curled tighter beneath the covers, pulling the weighted blanket high enough to tuck beneath the gentle curve of her jaw. Whilst not having an extreme phobia of adverse weather - this was, of course, England - Ann found the ongoing thunder storm rather unsettling. It was, perhaps, the unfamiliar surroundings of the guest bedroom, or the lack of comfort in knowing that her own maids were not close by within their own quarters. It could be the overall very grand, dark, Gothic nature of the Lister house, compared to the airy, brightly coloured and elaborately decorated home with which she was accustomed to. It could simply be that such a weather event was not on the foreseeable horizon during the last day's walks and adventure across the moors - whilst grey clouds had been scattered across the sky, the sun had been shining boldly and the temperature rather comfortable.

It wasn't a huge compromise to make - staying over at Shibden rather than Anne stay over at the Lightcliffe estate, what with Anne's Aunt feeling under the weather and Anne's sister having travelled away. There would have been no way, following normal etiquette, that Anne would have allowed herself to stay at another's residence whilst her Aunt was unwell and without younger company. Ann did understand all of this - really, she had only wanted Anne to stay for dinner and all night because she had so dearly missed Anne's company. The older woman seemed to be busy all hours of the day, be it reading French, Greek, Algebra, or playing the flute, or spending hours outdoors on her daily excursions - God only knew what else. Ann would do anything to have more of Anne's undivided attention. An invitation to spend the night with the Lister's seemed a perfect opportunity, and a more appealing propsect than spending another evening and night alone, pining, at Lightcliffe.

Then, of course, there was the kiss.

The thought alone Ann found brought a slight crimson blush upon the fair skin of her cheeks. She could gauge the heat there, feeling the soft fabric of the duck-feather stuffed pillow begin to warm. It caused other feelings too, feelings that Ann was not sure, as of yet at least, what to make of. She'd notice a stirring down low in her abdomen at thoughts of the kiss and of Miss. Lister. She found an echoing ache surfaced between her legs - an unfamiliar feeling but not one that Ann found needed any explanation. She'd feel the fabric of her drawers, even with the open sash that allowed the cool air to breathe against the apex of her thighs, become uncomfortably damp. And whilst all that she had shared with Miss. Walker had been a kiss, and a modest wandering of hands, Ann was sure that she was physiologically craving more.

Another flash instantaneously lit the bedroom, sending an array of dancing, cascading shadows across the floors and walls. It gave the blonde enough time to think of how many of the shadows seemed to twist and turn, causing an unappreciated sense of fear, before the room was once again returned to its opaque blackness.

Ann sat up in the bed, appreciating the softness of the mattress and pondering on its stuffing as she did so, and crossed her legs beneath the covers. She once again pulled the layers upwards to bring them flush to her chin; though not feeling cold, the frosting of the glass window and the sound of the gushing rain gave something akin to a placebo effect, sending a chill along Ann's spine. 

The house sounded earily silent, without even the comforting, homely sound (Ann had found herself growing fond of the sound as the day had worn on) of the creaking floorboards. Whilst, perhaps, creaking floorboards were not generally considered a comforting sound, Ann had found it a gentle reminder that there was always somebody else in the house going about their daily chores or work. It had fast become a sound of company and it had rather grown on her. 

Of course, Ann appreciated that she must be mindful of the hour which Earthly time must be at. The silence should be a relief, a reminder that other residents of the household had been fortunate enough to have so far slept through the storm rather than have been rudely awoken by it. 

Ann was preparing to lay back down beneath the covers and attempt to overcome the thunderstorm for some much needed rest, when she noted the door built into the paneling to her right. Whilst at the far end of the wall, the hinges almost flush with the corner of the room, she noted a faint yellow glow slipping beneath the gap between the door and threshold. The light was faint and welcoming, creating an effect wherein the floorboards closest to the light shone golden. The room adjoining her own was Anne's bedroom - as the older woman had plainly pointed out upon giving Ann a tour of the house. It was a tour which Ann had not been afforded upon her first visit to Shibden Hall.

But, alas, the traumatic circumstances which first brought her to the Lister's front door - one that meant a poor, innocent boy had undeservingly lost a leg - Ann did not want to think about currently. She put such thoughts to the back of her mind.

Ann decided to rise from the bed to investigate the light, her feet finding the square cut of rug which the bed sat upon swiftly enough. Her arms folded almost instinctively across her chest, an action which reflected some of the inhibition which Ann was beginning to feel around approaching the door unannounced and possibly disturbing Miss. Lister. She pulled the tartan blanket which she knew was laying on the end of the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders as a shawl - a figurative and literal comfort blanket in this circumstance - and began to creep rather carefully toward the door. Not only did Ann feel inhibition around possibly disturbing the older woman, but she was also aware of how impenetrable the dark seemed. She had only a small slip of yellow light to guide her and no real sense of where the room's furniture lay.

Possibly too intent on reaching the miniscule beam of light, Ann's foot caught on an obscured piece of furniture. Possibly a travel case laying beneath the four poster bed - it didn't feel quite so hard enough as to be one of the four legs of the bed - and Ann found herself tumbling. Whilst she was quick as to not lose her balance and become sprawled across the floor, Ann was aware that her footing landed heavy against the floorboards. As she collided with the wall, a little to the right of the doorway for which she was aiming, she was aware that the initial alarm she experienced at possibly causing serious injury to herself was replaced with embarrassment. Even being the only person to have witnessed or experienced the fumble, it felt entirely too inelegant and clumsy for Ann's liking.

Ann remained still for a long moment, resting against the wall with which her shoulder had come into contact with. She held her breath and listened closely for any noise, noting how wide she held her eyes open despite the knowledge that it would be in no way helpful - the darkness was much too impenetrable. She was hoping against all hope that she had not disturbed any of the older Lister's - the Aunt especially, being she so urgently needed her sleep in order to overcome her illness. Surely the last thing she wanted, being she had so generously been offered a guest room in order to spend much of the evening with Anne, was to wake Anne's Aunt. But it was neither the Aunt, nor the Father, which Ann needed to have worried she disturbed.

"Ann?" The voice was muffled behind the door, but it was unmistakably Miss. Lister's. "Are you alright?"

"Quite," Ann called back, responding quickly as to not alarm the brunette. "I was disturbed by the thunderstorm and took a small tumble."

The door between the two rooms swung gayly open. 

There in the door way, unbashfully wearing only a mid-thigh length nightshirt and men's drawers, stood Anne Lister. The yellow glow enveloped the outline of her body and left only a formidable silhouette standing boldly in the doorway. The overall effect made Ann seem, despite the lack of her usual severe clothing, an intimidating figure, one perhaps not too distantly related to Holy. Her brown hair fell down around her shoulders in mussed, raven locks, and Ann realised, with an ever-deepening blush, that the lace front of the night shirt had not been completely tied up. Strands of hair had loosely found their way into the valley of Anne's chest and the outline of her breasts could be seen clearly, even in the dim light. Ann forced herself to look upwards to meet the older woman's eyes.

"Miss. Lister... I didn't mean to disturb you..."

"Nonsense," Anne was quickly flippant. "The thunderstorm disturbed my slumber some time ago. I'd have offered my company had I known the you were awake,' the brunette's hands gesticulated as she spoke. "And, please, call me Anne. I think we are past pleasantries and formal greetings now, hmm?" A knowing smile graced the older woman's lips.

"Of course," Ann nodded her head eagerly, a smile already beginning form upon her own lips - she found it almost impossible to be in Anne Lister's company and make any expression without a smile.

"Come in, why don't you?" Anne stepped back from the threshold, offering the blonde plenty of space for her to enter the bedroom.

Ann's smile grew. "You needn't have asked," Ann was already walking to enter the bedroom adjacent to her own.

She found herself, at the prospect of having been graced with the opportunity to be in Anne's company in the older woman's bedroom, beginning to grow excited. Not the manic type, though, with the beaming grin and unbottled enthusiasm. More the kind that caused a fluttering in one's stomach and a slight arythmia in one's chest. Already, having only been invited into Anne's bedroom under no pretense at all - Anne did, after all, only offer her company, and one would have to look hard to find any cause to feel it was spoken as an innuendo - Ann noticed a percular sensation between her legs, almost a tingling of sorts.

As Ann stepped past the threshold, she glanced around at the room. A fairly sizeable window was set into the far wall. The glass panes looked out upon the front lawn of Shibden hall; whilst the dark would not allow one to recognise the landscape beyond the window, Ann had happened to glance through upon entering Anne's bedroom during the tour of Shibden Hall. 

A few feet in front of her, set into the centre of the wall to her left, lay Anne's oak four poster bed. Whilst not entirely distinctive from the bed situated in the guest bedroom behind her, simply knowing this was the bed which Anne Lister found slumber in made it seem somewhat remarkable to Ann. The drapes, pulled up along each side, were a deep, burgundy red, almost matching the royal red covers that were lain across the duvet and sheets. The pillows looked plump and inviting.

To the right of Ann, situated against the far wall, lay an intricately carved desk. A tall candle, in a bronze metal holster, stood lit - the source of the golden glow that slipped beneath the crack under the door, Ann noted. A book lay open on the desk, a wooden chair of matching design stood askew where it should have been tucked in. No doubt Ann had disturbed the older woman, only not from sleep, but her journaling. An ink blotter lay open, a quill pen - the tip still covered in wet ink, lay on the pages of the open journal next to it.

"Oh, I have disturbed you," Ann turned to face the brunette as she gently closed the door.

"Not at all," Anne assured, giving an easy smile. Her hand wafted towards the direction of the bed. "Take a seat. Make yourself at home."

Ann smiled in return and took the few small steps to the made-up bed - it hardly looked slept in, the sheets seemingly completely undisturbed, and Ann wondered if the older woman had even retired to bed before the thunderstorm had begun. She perched herself timidly on one side of the bed as she watched Anne stride towards the chair and desk, retaking her seat.

"Please don't think me rude," Anne apologised, glancing backwards over the chair to look at the blonde. "I just have to finish this single entry - I journal rather prolifically and an unfinished entry just wouldn't do - and then I'll join you."

"Is that a promise?" Ann asked sheepishly, a coy smile causing her to bite down on her bottom lip.

Despite the anxieties and inhibitions present previous to entering the room, and the apprehension that currently found itself laying within her stomach now she had entered, Ann couldn't help but feel a false sense of security through the darkness. The fact it was not daylight outside, the gentle, welcoming glow from the lit candle wick, the less than formal attire that both herself and Anne had adorned in order to sleep, they all played into Ann perhaps feeling able to be somewhat more forward than normal. Besides, Anne was right - they were beyond pleasantries. They had, in fact, shared a more than modest kiss.

"Yes," Anne spoke confidently, the smile on her face widening, eyebrows raising just slightly in amusement. The older woman's dark eyes always harboured so much playful mischief - Ann found her own smile widening. "And it is a promise that I definitely intend to keep." Intense eye contact was held between the two for a long moment.

Ann's cheeks flushed a little at that. She was aware that all Anne must have meant was that she would come and sit with her, and engage in conversation as was socially acceptable when entertaining a guest. But Ann couldn't help that her mind wished for the comment to mean more.

Anne had scarcely picked up the quell, having the time to scribble a word or perhaps two, before she paused in her work and once again looked backwards over her shoulders.

Her head tilted to the side slightly as she took in a breath. "Make yourself comfortable, hmm? No need to perch so perilously on the edge of the bed." She offered a warm smile.

Ann returned the smile, albeit a little bashfully. Simply being in Anne's private quarters seemed to ingnite a feeling that otherwise could have likely been ignored, turning softly glowing coals into some form of hot and brazen inferno. Knowing she was simply perched on a bed in which Anne slept in, in which Anne must do other things in, sent a blush creeping along the column of Ann's throat. Anne did not any point seem uncomfortable with herself, or with - what Anne referred to - as her oddity. Ann didn't find it a wild jump of a conclusion to believe that the older woman found no qualms in taking care of her own needs, needs of course related to those one would assume was customary to have met in a bedroom.

An uncomfortable ache made itself known between Ann's legs. Of course, why wouldn't such a feeling occur when Ann had been allowing her thoughts to so quickly run away from her, had allowed herself to begin thinking about things that were not of her concern.

Ann turned the corner of the covers over to reveal the crisp, cool sheets below. She slipped beneath, pulling the covers to the top of get thighs and plumping the pillows behind her, allowing her to sit up and watch as Anne continued to write.

It felt strange, almost, to see Anne this way. Ann had become so used to seeing the older woman in her customary severe, dark clothing, with her hair always tied up just so. Tight curls and severely straightened, not ever so much as a wandering lock of hair out of place. Anne, currently, juxtaposed the mental image which Ann brought to mind when thinking of the older woman. There was also the look on Anne's face, one of studios focus, following the ink which so easily flowed over the parchment page. Ann had grown accustomed to the warm smile and soft expressions, the enquisitive lifting of eyebrows and light laughter. She was not so familiar with the hard, acute stare that was so fixedly set upon the open journal at her desk. 

Yet, she found herself almost transfixed by it. No doubt, the expression epitomised that of one completely oblivious to those around them and completely transfixed by the work of hand. Though the expression much gentler, Ann could not help but see some mirroring of the way in which Anne looked at her. Just before their first kiss, and before that when Anne had been courting her so - something that had not become apparent to the slightly naive Ann until her lips had been caressed so fervently by the older woman's - Anne had much a similar expression. One of entire focus; it made Ann feel that she was the only person in the world worth caring for, that she was the only possible thought on Anne's mind worth comprehension.

She wondered now, as she watched the older woman write, if that was the way in which Anne would continue to look at her. Not just in moments when they might perhaps kiss, or moments wherein Ann felt she was being cast under the brunette's spell, but in moments further. More intimate moments, moments when perhaps Ann felt she was able to give herself the older woman completely. The thought, of Anne gazing into her eyes as her hands and fingers found her, brought a fresh wave of warm blood to the surface of her skin.

It was this moment that Anne replaced the lid upon the ink blotter, checking closely that she had closed any gap wherein air may enter and ruin the ink. She placed the quill down and stood from her seat, turning toward the direction of the bed.

A troubled frown seemed to disturb her face as she gazed upon her guest.

"Are you feeling alright, Ann? You look somewhat flushed."

Ann had thought that there was no possible scenario in which her blush might deepen from the very noticeably crimson colour that covered her cheeks.

"I'm fine," Ann assured, smiling, looking up at the brunette. "I find Shibden retains much of it's warmth."

Anne nodded her head, seeming in proud agreement. "Shidben Hall is nearly 400 years old," she spoke, her eyes dancing fondly over the wooden panelling of the room. "It was built to be sturdy."

"Yes," Ann responded, not entirely sure what it was that she was agreeing with.

"Though, I do wonder..." Anne turned her gaze back to Ann, who found she was holding her breath, wondering if perhaps Anne had realised she was lying so blatantly about the reason behind her blush. "If it could look more elegant, more grand."

Ann let out a light sigh of relief. "Yes," she repeated.

"I ran some plans past my father - Shidben Hall is my estate, of course, but being he has resided here so long I hardly felt it agreeable not to discuss the matter with him - to renovate the house," Anne spoke. "Perhaps a larger front room with a more grand staircase. I could have someone take the second floor away from the front of the house, just above the parlour and no where else, and open the space up. A bigger window might do, more light - I find Shiden often very dark and dismal." 

Anne seemed lost within her own mind now, a frown creasing her brows as she visualised the changes which she wished to make. The pace at which she spoke had increased just slightly and her hands gesticulated more vividly. "I quite like the idea of adding a turret to the left of the house, modelled to look as though its original was with the main structure of course. A study, a library even, somewhere for literature," Anne brought her hand to her chin, tapping her index finger against her lips as she began to think deeper. "I was thinking perhaps a Summer house on the estate too, to the East, an acre or so away from the main building. That could perhaps become the new entrance to lead to Shibden Hall. It would give guests a fantastic tour through the Shibden estate and the gardens out front," Anne looked longingly at the curtains covering the bedroom window, likely thinking of the well kept grass and gardens that one saw when first entering the property.

"I did wonder," Ann licked her lips. "This bedroom seems smaller in comparison to some of the guest rooms..."

"Ah, yes," Anne spoke, once again turning to Ann. "There are more grand bedrooms at Shibden, you're right. But I daren't say that any other room affords a view of the estate quite like this one." 

"Anyway," Anne seemed to come back to herself, closing her eyes and shaking her head left and right. "I'm sure you don't want to hear about all of this. It'd no doubt bore you right back to sleep," it was said with some amusement.

"Not at all," Ann reassured. "I like hearing you talk. I'm rather fond of your voice, and it's encouraging to hear someone talk with so much enthusiasm." 

Anne gave a slightly one-sided smile, a smile that both thanked Ann for her kind comment but simultaneously chastised her for being too polite. 

"Well," Anne came towards the bed, turning up the right side and slipping beneath the covers next to Ann. She mirrored Ann's position, sitting up against the pillow and headboards. "Aren't you sweet."

Ann gave a breathy laugh, her eyes moving to bashfully look down at the covers, aware that any suppressing of the ache which had settled between her legs had come undone the moment Anne climbed into bed next to her. 

"I don't suppose you've found yourself any closer to getting some rest?" Anne enquired gently.

"Unfortunately not," Ann admitted, not giving any indication as to the reason she felt unable to rest. The thunderstorm that rumbled outside was far from her mind. "Are you tired? I don't wish to keep you awake."

Anne shook her head easily, reassuring the blonde woman by reaching out a hand and clasping her fingers around Ann's easily. She squeezed lightly, but left her hand laying where it was, her fingers laced loosely with Ann's own.

"I've a fear the thunderstorm may last a while longer,' Anne admitted, resting against the headboard. She allowed her head to roll to the side enough that she could look at Ann. "Not that I mind. I have rather enjoyed your company, Ann. I have for quite some time."

"I feel the same," Ann's grey-blue eyes moved to meet Anne's.

She felt the pads of Anne's fingers begin to draw delicate circles against the sensitive palm of her hand.

"Penny for your thoughts," Anne spoke softly, her voice smooth, and Ann would be damned if the brunette's eyes hadn't briefly flicked downwards to look at her lips.

Ann shuffled beneath the covers, aware she was moving to press her thighs closer together. Not because she did not wish to feel any physical contact with Anne, though, she was aware she felt quite the opposite. But Ann was aware that she was yet to grow tolerant to the insufferable ache that tortured the apex of her thighs and still found the wetness that gathered there unfamiliar and uncomfortable. 

"I..." Ann felt herself tut as soon as the sentence begun, found her gaze dropping to watch Anne's fingers toying rather delicately with her own.

Two fingers moved to caress her jaw, moving to rest beneath her chin and guide her face back towards Anne's. Anne's expression was soft, encouraging, and almost as a reward for regaining eye contact, she felt Anne's finger slide to rest beneath her ear. Her palm now rested against Ann's jawline and neck, her thumb stroking her cheek delicately. Ann found herself swallowing thickly, noticed her breath already catching in her throat and her pulse already quickening.

"You..." Anne urged, but gently.

"I can't bring my thoughts to focus on anything but the kiss which we shared," Ann admitted, the sentence coming without falter - as though something about Anne's gaze brought a warm blanket of mist, akin to hypnosis, over Ann's mind, making her feel safe in her disclosure.

Anne's thumb moved to glide across Ann's cheek and run the length of the blonde's bottom lip.

"What about it?" Anne asked, sounding confident despite a miniscule part of her mind harbouring worry that perhaps it was not to Ann's liking, and that maybe it had taken this long for Ann to make up her mind about it. 

Ann chewed her bottom lip. "I think that... Perhaps... If you'd feel so obliged... I'd like to do it again."

A wide smile appeared upon Anne's face. "Come," she settled herself further into the bed, no longer leaning back against the headrest but laying as though to rest against the sheets. "Lie down, hmm," Anne patted her open palm against the small gap laying in the centre of the bed between herself and Ann.

It was an invitation, and not one that Ann wished to ignore. She settled into the sheets, hoping not to look too eager in her enthusiasm to do so, but knowing a part of her simply didn't care if she did - she was almost desperate to have Ann offer her some much needed attention. Perhaps in sharing a kiss, perhaps in having the weight of Anne against her and feeling the older woman's controlled touch against her skin, it would be akin to one dampening hot coals with cool water. It could offer Ann some restbite from the insistent ache between her legs and the carnal pangs of pleasure which twisted low within her abdomen. 

Of course, Ann would soon realise this would not be the case. Instead, the closeness of Anne, the feel of her, would only ignite a wildfire that would sure burn out of control. It would be a fire that only one Anne Lister could possible put out.

Anne lay next to the younger woman, resting on her side. She reached a hand out to tuck a lock of blonde hair, loose from the rest, behind Ann's ear. She could feel Ann's gaze on her as she watched her fingers tuck the lock neatly, before trailing her fingers around the shell of Ann's. The gaze wasn't exactly heavy, but the younger woman was clearly spellbound by Anne, watching nothing but her face as she lay still, patiently waiting.

Anne moved her fingers from the shell of Ann's ear down to her jaw, journeying slowly along the feminine curve to reach her chin. She paused there, for just a moment, finally moving her darkened eyes to those wide grey-blue's looking back at her. Though Ann's gaze seemed calm, the older woman could see her chest rising and falling, rising and falling - a quicker pace than one would assume someone would have when at rest. The blush still remained on both of her cheeks too. 

Not wanting to wait any longer, feeling and reacquainting herself with the softness of Ann's lips as the pad of her thumb ran along the length, the brunette leaned down. The first contact, whilst not hesitant, remained slow and gentle. Anne's hand gently caressed one side of the blonde's face as her lips glided easily over another's. Her thumb made a back and forth motion against Ann's cheek as their contact continued, a soft, tender touch to offer reassurance.

Anne felt herself smile against the younger woman's lips as she felt Ann's hands move from their currently stationary position. One hand moved to brush the brunette's hair back from curtaining both of their faces, holding it in place with a gentle pressure against the nape of Anne's neck. She felt fingernails rake just gently there, but it was enough to give Anne a glimmer of excitement that caused a brief shiver. Ann's hand moved to press itself fondly, yet lightly, against one side of Anne's neck.

The kiss deepened ever so slightly and the pressure of their lips against one another's increased - it was more than welcomed by both parties, evident in the way their bodies seemed to move closer to one another's.

Perhaps, from the way Ann's legs shuffled restlessly beneath the covers when Anne pulled back, and the way that the top half of the blonde's body seemed to rise off of the bed to sought the loss contact, the older woman became aware that Ann might need, want, more. She was familiar with the pertinent, persistent ache that one experienced when aroused. It was insistent until taken care of, unwilling to bid farewell of its own volition.

Anne nibbled her bottom lip. Her eyes glanced into the blonde's before glancing longingly down at Ann's lips. They glanced lower, at the ongoing shuffling beneath the covers, before returning to meet Ann's gaze.

"You remember that I told you that these things can take time? That there's nothing to be frightened of," she spoke as finger gently caressed Ann's jawline.

Ann nodded her head against the pillow in response.

"I can help you. With this," Anne's hand moved to lay lightly against where, she presumed, Ann's pelvis rested beneath the covers. "But only if you're wanting and only if you're sure," she added quickly, blinking more times than necessary as she did - a sure sign that she was aware that things could go one of two ways. 

Ann was more hesitant in response this time. The older woman could feel the blonde's fingertips moving restlessly against the nape of her neck, no doubt absentmindedly as she thought. Their gazes remained locked together, and eventually, with no encouragement from Anne, the younger woman nodded her head.

Anne's lips broke into a wide smile, her hand moving to carress Ann's cheek. Ann's smile grew to meet hers - no doubt a combination of the older woman's infections expression and an apprehension about what next would happen.

"And you're sure? You have to be sure, Ann."

Not only did Anne not want this night to ruin the progress she had made on courting a new possible companion, Anne was more than aware that in Ann having had little experience, it was important that this one remained something positive and pleasurable for the younger woman. 

"Yes," Ann sounded confident, if not a little breathless.

Anne drew her teeth along her bottom lip, shuffling herself, feeling helpless as her own excitement seemed to effervesce, threatening to over spill. The brunette was aware she needed to be in control of her movements - there was no room to get carried away. Ann had to be at the centre of anything that ensued.

"And you'll tell me if you want to stop? In which case I will stop all movements immediately."

"I will," Ann spoke softly, lifting herself from the pillow to offer a light, tender kiss against Anne's lips. "I trust you."

Anne returned the kiss, parting only when she began to move beneath the covers. She manoeuvred to slip one leg comfortable between Ann's, using her hands only to push the fabric of the nightshirt upwards to rest at Ann's hips. Anne's own mid-thigh night shirt meant there wouldn't be any restricted movement due to the material, and so once Ann's had been successfully moved out of the way, Anne was able to press her thigh upwards against the open sash of Ann's draws.

Ann had just a moment in which to blush, to experience some embarrassment at the realisation that it was likely the thin material of Anne's drawers would do no nothing to hide how wet Ann had become. Surely, it would seep through the thin layer of fabric and Anne would no doubt know exactly how the blonde had been feeling during their conversation. But it was only a moment; as soon as Anne pressed her thigh upwards, retaining balance by resting her forearms either side of Ann, Anne's thoughts were taken over by a feeling much stronger than embarrassment.

Without having any control over her own motions, Ann realised her hands had fisted the material of Anne's nightshirt, no doubt her nails grazing the skin of the brunette's back. But Anne seemed to give it no mind. Instead, Anne first released the pressure, before replacing it between the apex of Ann's thigh.

Ann found a gasp escape her lip, found her eyes meeting Anne's, her brows furrowed at experiencing such a new and pleasurable sensation. She soon realised that Anne was setting a rhythm, rolling her hips and pressing before pulling away. And then repeating. Over and over. Ann wasn't sure if it was possible that more moisture make itself known between her legs, but she was aware that the linen material of the older woman's draws did nothing to change the level of wetness Ann could feel present there.

The younger woman also found that she was powerless to part her eyes away from Anne's as the brunette rocked fastidiously against her. The way Anne gazed at her, the way the woman watched each and every subtle change of Ann's expression as she moved against her, sent a hard pang of pleasure deep within Ann's abdomen. Ann found a moan slip past her lips as her hips jumped from the bed. It only increased the pressure of Anne's thigh against her and the next moan was louder. Ann still found her eyes unable to look away from Anne's, the way it held her, the adoring, yet studious, gaze which seemed to pin Ann to her position on the bed. 

Anne gently placed one finger against her own lips, attempting a discreet gesture pertaining to keep Ann aware of noise. Shibden, unfortunately calling for more discreetness as would be required at Lightcliffe, meant Anne was hyper aware of the distance between her own room and those of her relatives. 

Ann brought both hands to either side of Anne's face, luring the older woman down and bringing their lips together. It didn't stop all noise - Ann was aware it felt near impossible to remain entirely silent - but it was enough of a distraction that she could bring her own lips to Anne's and produce a muffled sound rather than a crystal clear noise. As she pulled back from one kiss, Ann found her teeth capturing the older woman's bottom lip between them, biting down and tugging gently. 

The blonde could feel an unfurling low in her stomach, could feel the sweat in the bend of her knees and along her back become increasingly apparent. Her hands didn't know where to stop, where to pause, where to grab. They moved along the expanse of Anne's back, nails digging into skin and curling into flesh. She could feel a strange tremble, an alien weakening along the expanse of her legs.

It was both too much and not enough.

"Anne," Ann moaned desperately, a pleading tone to her voice. 

Ann was much too far into the pursuit to capture her release to have possibly had any inclination as to what hearing Anne's name upon her lips in such a manner did to the brunette. It was unlike any feeling Anne had experienced on hearing her name spoken during the throes of passion previously. Her body responded in a way never before experienced when her name was spoken upon the lips of a lover. Perhaps it was Ann's lack of experience, the idea no other woman would have had her in such a way. Though Anne quickly dismissed this - she'd been with many a woman with little to no experience.

The only changing factor in this circumstance was Ann.

As she pressed more firmly, rolled her hips at a quickened rate, Anne brought her hand to Ann's face. She drew the blonde's gaze to her own, cradled her face and held her there. 

Ann's hair spread about the pillow in a messy halo, her face flushed. A number of golden locks had been thrown messily against her forehead and cheeks, where perspiration held them firmly. And Anne was sure that she had never seen a sight more magnificent in all her travels and all her years. 

Miss. Walker, caught in the throes of carnal desire at the hands of Anne, the room illuminated only by the single wick of candle light, the only sound rumbling thunder, heavy rain against the window panes and a symphony of moans from Ann.

As Anne found herself memorised by such a sight, such a moment, her eyes caught by Ann's and never wanting to look away, Ann finally fell gracefully over the precipice she had been so desperately seeking.

A symphony of cries and moans filled the room and Ann's thighs clamped around Anne's, holding it still. Ann watched on as the blonde's back and neck arched, as strong convulsions swept through every muscle, every nerve ending alive with pleasure. Anne felt the younger woman's short finger nails find purchase around her shoulder blades, and though she gasped at the unexpected, sharp pain, she knew she wouldn't mind if Ann did happen to leave a mark upon her.

Anne's fingers gently caressed along the younger woman's jaw and cheek, waiting patiently for Ann to return to her. Eventually, her eyes focused and her grip loosened. Anne leant forwards and pressed a gentle kiss against her lips.

"Are you alright?" Anne enquired, her voice like velvet in the room. 

A slow nod came from Ann. "More than alright," she spoke, her heart currently still beating mildly erratically within her chest.

Anne made a move to shuffle back to laying along Ann's side, moving her leg in the process and accidentally brushing the patch of damp material on her drawers against the apex of Ann's thighs.

Ann moaned involuntarily, her eyes fluttering shut, a blush creeping along the column of her throat as she realised there was still a rolling ache between her legs.

Anne raised an inquisitive eyebrow, a small, but surprised, smile playing on her lips.

"Why, I never," Anne's voice was husky and rich. "I think someone needs a little bit more."

Ann sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. Somewhat self conscious. 

"I... I shouldn't indulge myself... I'm-.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Anne cut in gently. "It's more normal that you might think."

Ann's blush seemed to deepen regardless. But she felt the ebbing between her legs strengthen as the tips of Anne's fingertips slipped beneath the covers and stroked against the inside of the blonde's thighs. 

"If you want more, that's okay," Anne reassured.

Ann didn't respond. Though she felt the older woman more than reassuring - she had not met another individual yet who took so much time to listen and soothe her - there was still some residual feelings of self consciousness around her own carnal wants. Previously, Ann had thought a kiss would be suffice. Now she felt more than tempted to have Anne touch her again.

Instead of responding, Ann allowed her legs to fall open, offering herself to the older woman as she leant up to kiss her.

Anne received the message clearly, allowing her fingers to slip through the open sash of Ann's draws and feel the damp curls beneath. She had been aware of how wet and wanton Ann had been, had felt her desire through the material of her own drawers as she pressed herself against her. But the copious amounts of liquid Anne found upon allowing her fingers to slip between sleek folds forced a breathy moan through her lips. 

"Ann," the older woman wasn't sure what to say, how to say what she had been feeling and what she was feeling. Instead she uttered one word. "Magnificent."

Anne's fingertips slid upwards to press against Ann's clit. The bundle of nerves felt swollen and enlarged, no doubt wanting more than just pressure from one's thigh to pleasure it. Anne couldn't help but imagine just how it would look; she imagined pink and engorged, neglected and ripe for the taking. She knew she would be offered the opportunity to know for sure on some other occasion.

Right now, Anne needed to take care of the younger woman, whilst the timing was right for a second release - Ann, a balancing act between feeling too sensitive and not sensitive enough after the first round of activities.

As Anne found her lips drawing a line of hot, open mouthed kisses along one side of Ann's neck, she allowed her fingers to delve downwards, stroking for and finding the blonde's opening. It couldn't possibly have been lubricated further. Anne drew her tongue along the hollow of Ann's throat, taking in the salty taste of the perspiration that had gathered there. She both heard and felt Ann moan, and felt it the right moment to slip the length of one finger inside of the younger woman.

She heard a gasp from Anne, and then a cry of pleasure as she first withdraw her finger, leaving just the very tip to tease the opening, before sliding the length back in. 

"Oh, Lord," Ann keened, one hand moving to wind into the sheets and grip hard. 

Ann wanted to leave her eyes open, wanted to maintain the fastidious gaze of the older woman as she brought her yet another climatic experience of pleasure, but her eyes seemed to flutter shut of their own accord. There seemed little she could do to inhibit the feeling uncurling low in her stomach.

The ache she'd felt throbbing between her legs, Anne now realised was her body's way of reflecting a desire to clench around something or someone, to have it or them fill her. She felt herself, as each thrust of Anne's finger allowed the length to slip inside of her, gripping tightly around Anne's digit. As though her body did not want to run the risk of that slender finger thrusting out and not returning.

Anne was aware of Ann's little experience of intimacy, if 'little experience' is how one might sum up a particular individual taking advantage of and connecting with another - but this was not a trail of thought Anne wished to follow right now. Nor did she think she would be able to, given the feeling of Ann wrapped so tightly around her. Anne had to set a slow pace to allow Ann to adjust to just the single digit. Having her fingers in territory only one other had been, feeling the tightness, Anne found excited her immensely.

She noted the increase in pitch of the moans, the more apparent pant, and allowed her palm to make contact with the blonde's clit. Now with each thrust came the grinding of her palm against the blonde's pulsating nub. She set a rhythm, a pattern, and stuck precisely to it, allowing the younger woman's pleasure to build gradually, but surely.

Ann could already feel the familiar tightening of her core muscles and the trembling beginning to return to her legs. She found she was holding her breath between each moan, her only focus the growing feeling of carnal pleasure developing inside of her. She felt close to a precipice already, and was now experiencing far too much pleasure to feel self conscious about the situation.

The younger woman felt she could almost touch her release. Felt it was right in front of her, teasing her cruelly by remaining just out of reach. But almost on queue, as if Anne had been reading Ann's thoughts, the brunette curled her finger as she reentered the younger woman's opening. A whole new sensation, almost too pleasurable a sensation, sent Ann's head spiralling. She felt light headed as the thrusts increased in pace. It was only a few short seconds later that Ann found her legs widening further, almost of their own accord, and the toes of her feet curling into the mattress.

It was that moment that the candle sitting in it's holster on Anne's desk burnt out. But Anne's movements didn't stop. And Ann, being unable to see much but an outline of Anne's form, found it only added to the excitement. She couldn't see, but she could feel Anne against her, inside her, within her.

It took only this and she found herself tumbling over the edge once more, this climax seeming both clumsier and more intense than the last. Ann felt a strange wash of emotion build within her throat, even as she called out Anne's name and allowed herself to submit to each wave of her climax as they rolled mercilessly over her.

It was only when she began to gather herself again that she realised the droplets of water she first initially took as sweat falling from her forehead, were actually tears overspilling from her eyes. As her muscles hummed contently, her body now only experiencing the odd muscle spasm, a choked sob came from her throat.

"Ann?" Anne spoke alarmed. "Ann, what's the matter? Did I hurt you?" Anne swiftly sat up, laying on her side and looking down at Ann with concern. She reached a hand out and fumbled to find the blonde's face, to brush away the falling tears. "Talk to me, Ann. Please tell me I didn't hurt you."

"You didn't," Ann choked out, another sob shaking her form. "You haven't," her voice was wet and full of tears.

Anne's brows furrowed in confusion. "Then tell me what's wrong," she pleaded. "Please, Ann," her thumb swiped away another tear as it began it's descent along Ann's cheek.

"I just," Ann swallowed back a sob, almost hiccuping as a result. "I've just never had someone care for me so tenderly," she admitted, a fresh set of tears rolling down her face even as she tried to regain some control of her breathing. "I've never had someone be with me like this," a fresh set of sobs escaped her.

"Oh, Ann," Anne whispered into the dark. She leant down, her lips finding the soft skin of Ann's face and, not caring where they landed, set about drawing a pattern of lingering, delicate kisses. "My sweet Ann."

Anne's lips eventually found Ann's, and the kiss she offered happened to be eagerly accepted. Her hand moved to brush through the younger woman's golden locks.

As Ann's breathing began to settle, as the sobs reduced to sniffling, Anne fully lay down next to the blonde. She encouraged Ann to come to her, to curl into her chest. Ann seemed grateful for the contact as she lay half on top of Anne, sighing contently as she felt two strong arms wrap themself around her. Her head tucked beneath Anne's chin and her ear came to rest against the brunette's chest, where she could hear the older woman's heartbeat.

Every muscle seemed to hum like a finely picked harp string. Her mind felt as light as a feather. Ann could almost convince herself in this moment, that she'd never experienced any issues with her spine or her nerves her entire life. However, more realistically, Ann truly believed that such issues would remain a thing of the past so long as she had Anne to care for her, to love her.

And whilst such a sentiment was yet to be shared, the blonde had an idea that Anne might just be a little bit in love with her. And Ann, with her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank-you for reading! I greatly appreciate all reviews so please do leave a comment if you have time and are willing. And again, if anyone has any prompts for future pieces, please let me know. Hope you enjoyed!


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